


Dirt

by Potix



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dark Darcy, Dark Loki, F/M, Masturbation, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potix/pseuds/Potix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They both have dirty hearts. And they don't care". Set after Thor: The dark world. Dark Loki and dark Darcy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel owns everything (well, technically Disney owns everything...).  
> Anon on Tumblr gave me this prompt,a long time ago:"Loki is a super villain, battling *insert hero of your choosing here* with Darcy by his side as his snarky girlfriend/half-hearted henchwoman". I had a hard time trying to write this, and in the end, I capitulated. First, I'm not able to write a good battle scene; second, I wanted to explore the possibilities that an evil Loki paired with an equally evil Darcy could offer; third, I wanted to write some smut. As you are going to read (hopefully!), I changed this prompt more than a little bit...hope you like it anyway!
> 
> Last warning: this is very AU. Set after Thor: The dark world. Dark Darcy. Dark Loki. And there's smut. At your own risk, people!

 

_**"Ooh, I've been dirt** _   
_**And I don't care** _   
_**Ooh, I've been dirt** _   
_**And I don't care** _

_**...** _

_**And do you feel it** _   
_**Said do you feel it when you touch me** _   
_**I said do you feel it when you touch me"** _

**Dirt- Depeche Mode**

* * *

 

After another long and stressful day at work, Darcy's more fervent desire was to take a long, hot, relaxing shower. She started to strip down just after the door of her apartment closed behind her; a trail of clothes scattered carelessly on the floor marked her route from the hallway, to her bedroom, and finally to her tiny bathroom. She started the shower, deciding which shower-gel to use: green tea, vanilla...maybe coconut? No, she was not in the mood for something sweet. Finally she eyed what she was looking for: dark chocolate. "Strong, powerful...perfect!" she exclaimed, pleased.

Under the spray of hot, steamy water, she let the exhaustion slide away, like the droplets on her pale body: Jane's harsh words (because she was not fast enough at typing her unintelligible notes), Ian's pathetic whines at her refusal to have a serious relationship with him (he was too weak-willed, too sweet, too boring, for her), Erik's disgusting dismissal of trousers...

The temperature was almost scalding on her skin, but she welcomed it, nonetheless: the pain helped her forget the distress, the mental and physical fatigue. The life she was living, was not the life she had always dreamed for her: being an underpaid employee for a bitchy, ungrateful wretch like Jane Forster, surrounded by lunatics and miserable idiots...it was not for her. She was not made to obey silently: she was made to oder the others around.

Lost in her thoughts, she widened her stance and, resting her hands on the tiled floor in front of her, she let the water cascade on her head, soaking her long, brown hair; and that was the moment when she perceived the sudden change of the atmosphere around her. The steam was slowly disappearing, and a blow of chilled hair surrounded her, caressing her spine softly. It was barely perceptible, and it made her shiver...but not because of the cold.

Slowly, a strange sensation spreaded through Darcy: she sensed the ghost of a touch brushing her shoulders, descending on her arms and sneaking around her wrists; the feel of another hand, intertwining its fingers with hers; the illusion of tender lips grazing her nape...She recalled a fantasy, something she used to dream, a long time ago...or maybe it was a long lost memory...

Then,suddenly, solid flesh appeared: the weight of another body pressed against hers, the feathery touch of calloused fingertips tracing her quivering skin, like they were mapping the most sensitive portion of her body- starting from her breasts, the dark halo of her nipples, then the underside of her breast, down to her navel, and finally reaching their ultimate destination.

A gasp escaped from her parted lips, when the touch ceased to be teasing, and became more insistent, determined to make her forget everything, but the pleasure radiating from her wet center.

"Oh..oh yes, like that...don't stop..." Darcy heard her own voice betray her thoughts, and a low chuckle behind her made her shudder...again.

"You know how it works, Miss Lewis" a silken voice instructed, and the hard weight of his length, pressed against her backside, twitched in anticipation. "Say my name, my little Darcy..."he prompted, and the words fell from her lips, effortlessly.

"Oh Loki, please...my King..." she implored, and she felt his satisfied smile against her shoulder-blades. "You better brace yourself..." he whispered, his tongue tickling her left ear -then steadily, the pressure on her clit intensified, and first a finger, then a second, started to enter her already dripping pussy. All it took for her to reach her climax, were a few more words.

"Come for me...my Queen".

* * *

The water was tepid, but Loki's arms around were keeping her warm enough.

"How long?" she inquired, her gaze probing his green eyes, searching for the answer she hoped, she wanted, to hear.

"Soon...be patient, let's all make believe a little longer that you're only an insignificant helper, and-"

"That you are dead?" she concluded, smirking.

Loki kissed her tenderly, before adding "Trust me, my dear: we will have our revenge...and none will underestimate us. Again. Everyone will kneel before us..."

"Soon..." Darcy finished, and for a moment, her blue eyes flashed black, like her well hidden heart was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone encouraged me into expanding the one-shot into something more articulated, so...here I am. I still don't know where I'm going with this darker perspective on both Darcy and Loki, hopefully it's going to have some sense, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel owns everything (well, technically Disney owns everything...). Remember, I don't have a Beta reader, nor a vast knowledge of the English language.

The first time Loki saw Darcy Lewis, he didn't really noticed her. After all, he had more pressing problems to look after, like the Destroyer sent to Puente Antiguo to kill Thor. Darcy Lewis was just a blurry figure in the background, nothing more.

Then, when he had been on Midgard, concentrated on his plan to rule the petty planet and its inhabitants, he had caught some glimpses of her existence in Selvig's mind: some useful information, to use later, when he would have more time.

And at the moment, he had a lot of time. Impersonating the Allfather, who had conveniently fallen asleep just after he returned back after his "death", left the God of Mischief with a lot of spare time: after Thor removed Malekith's menace from the Universe, the nine realms seemed to want nothing more than enjoying a period of calmness, and peace. The court in Asgard and its never-ending intrigues just bored him, and so, taking a look at Thor and his idiot friends on Midgard was the least tedious way to occupy his days.

It was during one of his visits to Dr. Foster's new lab in New Mexico (the recent events at S.H.I.E.L.D. had temporarily stopped her project to try to affiliate with them, but her progresses with her research had gained her enough funds and respectability to have more advanced equipments), that Darcy Lewis finally caught Loki's attention.

Like others before him, at first he had made the mistake to lust just after her body. Hidden behind another another face, he let his eyes caress her generous bosom, wondering it was as soft and silky as it looked; he measured with his mind the abundance of her hips, imagining his hands taking hold of them, while thrusting into her; he pictured her plump lips closed around the tip on his engorged cock, milking him to the apex of pleasure.

Then, the God started to observe her behaviour, and his further examination left him even more intrigued. It amazed him, how her so-called "friends" could not see her true nature: but after all, it had been the same for him, on Asgard. They didn't perceive how her sarcasm, her casual pungency, were only the outcome of a deeper frustration. The bitterness, and the lack of recognition from her colleagues, were slowly shaping her anger into something potentially dangerous; there was a sinner, concealed from the sight of the simpletons around her, and Loki was determined to unleash her.

* * *

Being a shape-shifter had infinite benefits: for example, he could follow her home, without being seen, and scrutinize her habits and her quirks; he could see the real Darcy, the one she kept hidden from the others' eyes.

Loki knew how the intern would have called him: a pervert, a creepy stalker. He simply didn't care. The God rarely did something without planning in advance, and his decision to fully corrupt Ms. Lewis was no exception.

Plus, he could witness her most intimate moments, undisturbed. Thankfully she had stopped her dull tryst with her pathetic assistant, Ian: he had known he could not satisfy her, since the first moment he had watched him kiss her. He could see the need in her eyes, a lust that a pitiful human being could not placate.

Loki could smell how horny she was, sometimes. He was a God, after all, and all his senses were beyond the human standard. He yearned to breathe her most intimate aroma, while his tongue would taste her sweet flavour, bringing her to the climax; he would watch her struggling to delay the inevitable, just to prolong the sensations his body could give to her; and finally, her incoherent gasps and moans would turn into the only name she would always associate to pleasure. His name.

For now, he should content himself by watching her writhing in her bed, her hand between her open legs, caressing herself to an unsatisfactory orgasm.

And night after night, it was her name the last lucid thought that lead him to sleep, with his spent cock still in his hand, resting upon his stomach: "Oh, yes, Darcy..you are mine".

**So, any thoughts?**

**Author's Note:**

> So, any thoughts? Let me know, I'm always so self-conscious when I write smut...I need to know what you think, so I can improve next time!


End file.
